


Piece of Me

by bobilina



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Bad Parenting, Burns, Childhood Friends, Cigarettes, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Parent(s), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Prison, Recreational Drug Use, Reform, Rehabilitation, Scars, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Triggers, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, if you blink you'll miss it, reference to a handjob for a few bucks just once, she's underage when it happens though, so i thought i should mention it here just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobilina/pseuds/bobilina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am a seventeen-year-old recovering alcoholic.</p><p>I have fun when I’m getting lost in a bottle of someone else.</p><p>Anything is fun when you’re drunk.</p><p>Even life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [ Prologue ]

My name was Colten Delaney Marx.

I am a seventeen-year-old recovering alcoholic.

Sounds like I’ve had some fun in my life, right?

Partied?

Done a bunch of stupid shit and laughed about it with another bottle of beer?

You’re not all wrong.

I’ve done some stupid shit.

Partied.

Had a few too many beers a few too many times.

I wouldn’t say all of that was fun, though.

Well, it was fun was I was drunk.

Anything is fun when you’re drunk.

Even life.

But I don’t really count that as real fun.

I was never myself, those times.

I don’t have fun when I am myself.

I have fun when I’m getting lost in a bottle of someone else.

I used to count it as fun.

My sponsor shot it down on my first day of rehab.

He also said I couldn’t smoke anymore.

Our relationship had a rocky start, to say the least.

That was two years ago.

We’re better now.

Now, he’s my legal guardian.

He says he knows what’s best for me.

I tend to not fight him on it much anymore.

He’s the one with his head screwed on straight.

He’s the reason I was never found dead in a ditch.

That’s why we’re here.

It’s been four years since I last drove down this road.

Four years since I saw the leaving side of that sign.

It’s 2016.

My name is Colten Jeydon James.


	2. [ 1 ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this for wattpad, but won't be posting it there until I complete the story I am currently actively working on, so you guys are kind of like my test run XD

_ _

_You were the first one I loved_  
_You were the first love I lost_

[[ This Is the First Thing ] You Me At Six](https://youtu.be/wYmqU4RV55M)

\- - - - -

"No tongues down any throats where there are people trying to eat," Michael snaps, forcibly sitting down between Cal and Hunter.

"There were no tongues," Calum grumbles, giving Mike an angry pout. He ruffles his hair and goes about eating his lunch.

"With or without tongue, it's not great dinner-and-a-show material," Ashton adds, mouth full of apple.

"Says the cow spewing pieces of fruit everywhere," Hunter laughs. Ash shrugs.

"How about everyone keeps their hands _and_ food to themselves, yeah?" I chuckle.

"Yeah, Cal, hands to yourself," Michael taunts, dramatically scooting away and into Hunt.

"Hey," he scoldingly mocks, "hands of the merchandise."

Hunter leans to look around Mike. "Excuse me?"

"That's no way to treat a lady," Michael says. He wraps an arm around her shoulder. "She is not your _property_."

"Just keep your hands to yourself and we won't have to worry about it," Cal muses, making a show of casually biting off the end of his carrot with a _snap_. Ash reaches over to steal one off his tray, wiggling his eyebrows as he tosses it into his mouth.

"Luke, would you please control your children?" Hunter whines.

"Why am I in charge?" I laugh.

"Yeah, why is Luke in charge?" Ashton challenges.

"Because the rest of you are hopeless," Hunter says with finality.

I just laugh and shake my head, opting to study the piece of questionable meat on my fork.

Suddenly, Ashton stills in place, looking like a deer in headlights towards the opposite side of the cafeteria. The rest of us follow suit, fruitlessly allowing our eyes to wander the more or less familiar faces of our classmates.

"What are you looking at, mate?" Michael laughs.

Ashton's face remains focused and blanched.

"Is that Colten?"

This time, when our heads flip, it's more out of confusion and near trepidation rather than entertaining our curiosity.

Still, our eyes flicker from person to person, thoroughly investigating for familiar features.

We all turn back when we discover there is nothing to find.

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"It's Colten!" he argues, seeming like he's on the road towards hysterical.

"I don't see her," Calum says.

"She's right there!"

I roll my eyes and go back to eating my sandwich.

"Are you talking about the girl with eyeliner and a leather jacket?" I hear Hunter question with obvious disbelief.

"Yes! Just look! It's her!"

"That's not her! Colten's hair was shorter. And also didn't have a piece missing."

"It was four years ago!" Ash shrieks. "Hair grows, and can be shaven."

"She pulls it off," Cal muses and Hunter is quick to slap him for it.

"That may be, but it isn't Colten," she says.

"Wanna bet?" Ash challenges.

"Not really."

"I'll do it," Calum agrees. Hunt slaps him again but he doesn't acknowledge.

"What're you going to do?" Michael cautiously asks.

"Colten!" he screams at the top of his lungs.

All our eyes go wide and instinctively twist around, looking for a reaction.

I hold my breath, waiting for someone to pop out from the shadows.

Instead, a girl with long hair, save for a small section on the side that is buzzed, pulled into a high ponytail slowly turns around, looking lost and annoyed.

Her clothes are black.

Her eyes are dark.

Her nose is pierced.

A script tattoo peaks beneath her collar.

But she's Colten.

And she sees us.

She used to smile when she saw us.

And then she's here, and we look like we have all been caught with our metaphorical pants around our metaphorical ankles.

"Colten?" Hunter prompts warily.

She stares back at her with listless eyes.

"Yeah," she says.

"You're back," Michael breathes out. The look on his face makes it clear he's trying his best to maintain a blasé composure, but the slightly breathless apprehension in his tone betrays his efforts.

"I guess."

We all share a quick, loaded, look before we return our full attention to the stranger of our friend before us.

"Well, how've you been?" Ashton asks.

"Lucid."

Uncertain how to interpret that particular response, I sit quietly processing how different this person is to the years of memories I thought I knew like the back of my hand, having spent so many times silently doing my best to never let them fade away.

It's been four years since anyone last heard from Colten. She left notes in all of our lockers and left.

Her parents no longer live in their old home, so everyone assumed they just moved away. Even though neither of them officially quit their jobs, according to what measly information we were able to gather as lost children missing a friend.

Their house was never put up for sale, either. Maybe now that they're back, they've just moved back in.

It was weird and we were worried for a while, but eventually accepted that obsessing wouldn't change much of anything.

It's not that she was ever forgotten.

We still talked about her when she came up in shared stories, or found something that reminded us of her. We still looked back on everything as fond memories with our best friend.

It took some time for us to adjust not having her constantly around. It wasn't until about a year later that hanging out without her felt completely normal.

She'd been the sixth member of our family for over a decade.

When we were all younger, we'd spend a lot of our time in the treehouse in my backyard. We decided to make it our home when we were about six, determining we were a real family. We decided Mitchh would be our last name, made up of the first letters of all our actual last names. I remember a time I wrote Luke Mitchh on a paper in school and confused my teacher. I wasn't trying to be obnoxious or whatever they thought. I honestly thought of it as one of my actual names, like they were interchangeable, because both were very much my family's name. Our parents had to sit us all down, eventually, explaining that it was fine if we used it with each other, but in school and with other friends, that wasn't our name. It didn't actually change anything. Most people just got used to it and accepted we had two last names.

We made up a bed for each of us and kept snacks we'd snake from my mom's cupboards in our plastic play kitchen. We'd have family dinners. We actually spent a decent amount of nights up there. We'd take turns reading bedtime stories out loud to each other. Over the years, the stories developed from _Clifford the Big Red Dog_ , to completing the entire _Harry Potter_ series by the time we were eleven.

Our parents figured we'd grow out of spending the majority of our lives up in a tree by the time we entered junior high. We never did.

Colten was the kid that was never afraid to get her hands dirty. She and I especially would walk around and collect bugs to put in our little cage we could carry through the backyard. We got an ant farm as a collective Christmas present one year. Another time, all of our parents got a swing that hung over the back deck of the tree house.

A few years later, Colt got a piano, and she kept it up there. She got really good through the years. She'd play us songs and, sometimes, we'd sing along. She'd teach us some stuff. We could all play a few chords, and knew the opening of My Chemical Romance's _Welcome to the Black Parade_ by heart. But none of us were anything like Colten.

The first time I kissed her was at that piano. We were messing around and playing ridiculously bad songs we'd made up on the spot, cracking up about it. We were only twelve, so it probably should've been awkward, because everything is at that age. But it wasn't. It was nice and simple and easy. We didn't talk about it after. We just smiled big and wide and continued goofing off with the shit we'd called music.

Again, we were only twelve. We kissed some more times, and I held her hand in the halls between classes. We'd cuddle during bedtime stories, but we never called it anything or needed to have a defining conversation about what we were.

She left a little over a year after that first kiss.

"Here, would you want to sit and have lunch with us?" Calum asks, scooting over to make room on the weathered bench.

"Not really."

We all startle at the blatant indignation settles comfortably in her voice. Sure, Colt joked around and was always willing to take whatever she was thrown and give it right back without blinking, but she was never truly bitter or mean.

Even so, she shifts on her feet and adjusts her bag over her shoulder, getting comfortable in her position.

"Oh," Cal says.

"I like your hair," Hunter tries weakly.

"Thanks."

"Um," I start, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. "What've you been up to?"

"Nothing worth mentioning."

I try to not be discouraged by her curt responses and think of other questions I could ask to hopefully prompt her to have an actual conversation.

"How are your parents?"

"Enjoying prison."

Silence.

Loud with confusion.

Disbelief.

Shock.

Horror.

"What?" I croak.

Blindsided would be a vast understatement of the feeling suddenly rushing through my veins. Her parents were an extension of our own to us all. My throat feels dry, brittle with unavailable questions simmering beneath the surface of my skin.

"They've got about six years left, I think," she says oh-so-casually that it sounds like we'd be discussing something as menial as what's for dinner or if I'd asked about a homework assignment.

"Six _years_?" I gawk.

She chuckles condescendingly. "Government doesn't appreciate embezzling from the federal funds."

My eyes go wide. She notices and I think it's amusement I see skim across her features.

"Anyways," she sighs. "The ole' ball and chain is waiting for me in the car.

Ball and chain?

"I--it's only lunch," I stutter.

"Yeah, well, I have to go register for my new support group," she says, slowly walking backward away from the table. "Crossing my fingers for my two-year chip in a few weeks."

"Two years of what?" I nearly shout as she escapes further and further towards the exit.

"You know, there's a reason the second 'A' stands for _anonymous._ " She smirks, then turns on her heel and struts straight through the cafeteria doors.

"Second 'A' of what?" I mumble, most to myself.

"Alcoholics Anonymous, if I had to guess," Ash comments, staring blankly at his tray still piled high with spongy, prepackaged food. I don't think I'll be able to stomach the stuff today.

"She's an alcoholic?" I whisper.

"Well, a two-year chip means she's been clean for that long," Hunter says, although I can see the same distraught look in her eyes as she keeps her gaze on the exit.

I let the silence sit for a moment before I give in and weakly ask,

"What did she mean by 'ole' ball and chain'?"

They all eye me warily.

"Let's go find out," Michael announces, abruptly standing up from the table and slinging his bag onto his back.

"What?" Cal asks.

"She said whoever they are is picking her up in their car. Let's go out to the parking lot and see who it is."

"What? No," I argue, but Mike is already throwing away his lunch, untouched, and heading towards the same doors Colten disappeared through no more than sixty seconds ago, not waiting for us to catch up.

Ash and Cal shrug and collect their own things, Hunter rolling her eyes but following suit.

"Wait, we're actually gonna go peek on her?" I ask in disbelief.

"Why not?" Ash points out.

They grab their stuff in their arms, and within a matter of seconds, are following the same path without bothering to see if I'd follow.

I groan, but hurriedly grab my bag and jog to catch up to them in the hallway.

They don't say anything as I fall into step with them. It's silent until we get to the front doors of the school.

We peek through the glass windows and see Colten still standing in wait. It's only a moment before a dark blue pickup pulls up beside the curb.

The man reaches across the center console to open the door for her. She flings her backpack into the bed of the truck, sliding into the passenger seat and putting her feet up on the dash the minute the door clicks shut behind her.

"He looks old," Ashton comments.

"He's at least in his thirties," Cal says.

"Doesn't mean he can't be her sugar daddy," Mike mumbles. I reach up and smack him hard on the back of the head.

Hunter scoffs. "I don't believe she'd be into guys almost fifteen years older than her."

"I also wouldn't believe someone who told me she's a seventeen-year-old alcoholic."

Everyone's heads turn to me with solemn expressions. I shrug, no falsities in what I said.

"I guess that is true," she sighs.

"It's just a fact that we don't know this Colten," Michael muses sadly.

We all allow a moment for that sink in before returning to look through the window, only to find the truck already gone and long out of sight.

"At least she's back," Cal says.

"No, she's not."

The bell rings before anyone can respond.

Not a word is said as we all mindlessly walk to our last classes.

Nor is a word written in my notebook as Mr. Fisher lectures about one of the wars.

I can only think a single thought,

Our Colten Delaney Mitchh is not back. 


	3. [ 2 ]

I trudge through the doors to my English class. To say that I was sleep deprived would be an understatement.

To start, I couldn't focus on anything long enough to get any of my homework done. Then, I laid in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling and not knowing what to do about the white wall that stared back at me without a care in this mortal world. Finally, I gave up and went out to the treehouse.

We still go up there. Not once a day, like we used to. But at least once a week, if we're not overly busy or anything.

I sat for hours at her piano. I played Welcome to the Black Parade intro a few hundred times before I picked up some of her old music sheets. She'd began to write some of her own stuff before she left. She was only thirteen, but it was all surprisingly lovely.

Most of them were about us, and about family and love and childhood and happiness.

They say to write what you know.

I wonder what she'd write now.

The bell rings and I reluctantly pull my stuff from my bag as everyone settles in their seats.

Mrs. Yoland walks in and instructs the class to take a seat and have their notes ready to go.

"But before we get to work," she interrupts, "I would like to announce our new student."

I look up from my doodles, along with the rest of the class, to find Colten standing beside Mrs. Yoland, her face hard yet blank.

"Why don't you introduce yourself?"

She shifts uncomfortably on her feet, adjusting the strap over her shoulder.

"Hello. Uh, I'm Colten James--"

Wait--James?

"I'm 17. I'm a senior."

"Where were you going to school before?"

"Well, I was actually born here, but moved away about four years ago, but came back for my last year."

"Oh, that's nice that you get to return home," Mrs. Yoland muses.

"Yeah, I guess," she says awkwardly.

"Okay," she sighs. "Why don't you take a seat. There are a few left in the back.

Colten nods and silently travels down the rows. When she passes me, I wasn't expecting her to give me much of a notice, given her attitude yesterday, but all I get is a glance up and down with a frown and look of discontent.

I try to let it go and divert my attention back to the random drawings I had on my paper in front of me. But, as Mrs. Yoland begins her lecture, I can't help myself from looking behind me, finding her only two seats back in the row to my left. She's looking straight ahead, but I see her flick her eyes towards me, obviously noticing my staring.

I quickly look back down and don't look up for the rest of the period.

\-----

"So," I sigh as I slump down at our usual lunch table, everyone looking up at me, "Colten is in my english class."

"Yeah, we have physics together," Hunter says.

"She's with me and Cal in history," Ash comments.

"Music." Michael.

"How'd she act when she saw you guys?" I ask.

"She looked at me, but that's about it," Michael grumbles unhappily, followed by a chorus of agreements from everyone else.

I groan with my head in my hands, dragging them over my face.

With a big sigh, I lift my head back up. The first thing I see is Colten traipsing down the outdoor walkway through the window.

Without thinking it through or real reason, I silently pick my backpack up, slinging it over my shoulder and telling the rest of them that I'll see them later, choosing to ignore their looks of concern.

I walk through the door leading outside, barely catching sight of Colten before she rounds the far corner. I hurriedly walk in her direction.

As I approach the corner, I slow down, walking lightly to peak around the edge.

Colten sits against the wall in the abandoned corridor, head tilted back as she takes a slow drag of a cigarette. The smell makes me scrunch my nose, holding my breath until I realize I can't be doing that if I want to have a conversation with her.

Instead, I turn my head for one last deep breath of fresh air, and walk around the curve before I can second guess myself.

Colten's head pops up immediately, which is the biggest reaction I've seen from her in the last 24 hours. Once I see her realize it's just me, I take the steps forward needed to be next to her, hesitating only a little as I take a seat beside her, but leaving a foot between us as a barrier.

"What are you doing here?" she asks warily, her cigarette falling limp in her hand.

I shrug. "Haven't gotten to talk to you since you got back."

She gives me a suspicious once-over, carefully placing her cancer stick between her lips and taking a deep breath, blowing it out slowly.

She used to hate cigarettes. Couldn't stand them. Ranted for an hour when her neighbor started smoking on his back porch, letting the smoke drift over the fence into their yard.

"That wasn't an accident," she says, eyes cold and scary.

"You know, you used to hate cigarettes," I say, promptly ignoring her comment.

"I have a lot of used to's." She flicks the cinders from the tip, watching as they flutter to the concrete.

"Why do you do it?" I ask, trying to keep my tone and body language casual.

"Well, it started as a convenience," she says with a smirk before she takes another drag.

"How is it a convenience?"

She gives me another sly smirk, eyes lighting up with an unnerving sense of excitement. She sticks her tongue between her teeth and leans to roll up the bottom of her ripped jeans, revealing a patch of oddly marred skin I don't remember her having.

Without a word or a bat of an eye, she reaches with her cigarette in her hand and promptly presses the burning embers into her skin.

"What are you doing?!" I shriek, my entire body jumping in surprise.

She doesn't respond, only smiles wider and shuts her eyes while I watch on in horror.

It's at least thirty seconds before she finally removes it from her leg, humming contently and resting her head back against the wall.

My eyes are wide as I stare at the fresh circle of raw skin above her ankle. I return to look at the mangled flesh covering up her leg in think patches and disappearing under the fabric of her jeans. There must be at least twenty pink holes beveled on the exposed part. I can't help but wonder if there are more.

"See?" she says, shocking me away from my trance. "Convenient."

I shake my head is shocked horror. "What the fuck--" I break off, not able to put the right words to explain everything going through my head.

"Yeah, because I didn't even smoke at first," she continues, completely casual and seeming lighter than before she stuck red hot ash against her body. "I'd find butts on the ground and light them when I needed it. Eventually, I tried smoking one, and it was good and took a load off, and then I'd always have them on me."

I gawk at her with my jaw ajar and face scrunched up in dismay.

"What the fuck happened to you?" I don't mean to be rude or anything, but at this point, I think it's a fair question.

She chuckles darkly. "Yeah, Jason doesn't like it either."

All I can do for a moment is blink and stutter until I finally find words, "Who the hell is Jason?!"

She blows out another puff. "Jason James--my guardian."

"You're adopted?" I ask, still not trusting myself to correctly understand everything that's happened.

She nods. "Yeah. He signed the papers a little over a year ago."

"Why?"

"I wasn't a foster kid that he came looking for for a daughter of his very own, if that's what you're thinking." She scoffs. "He was my sponsor when I first got admitted into rehab."

"How does a teenager legally get into rehab for alcohol addiction?" I question.

She shrugs. "I don't really know. I was drunk off my ass when this bartender at the pub I'd go into a lot with a fake I.D. brought me in when he saw me fall to the ground and the man who helped me up started taking me to the bathrooms in the back."

Well, that's an image that will forever make me sick to my stomach.

"Couldn't he tell you were underage?!"

"Oh, yeah," she says, casually waiving it off. "He knew the whole time, every time I came in there. Pretty sure he felt sorry for me and didn't rat me out. But he drove me to the rehab center himself that same night."

"And did the people just accept that you were a 16-year-old alcoholic without a second thought?"

"Actually, I was fifteen at the time," she corrects, probably knowing how absurd I found this whole thing and finding it entertaining.

"You were that young when you got addicted to alcohol?!" I shriek.

"No. I was 14 when I got addicted."

"That was only a year after you left."

She nods. "Yep."

I try to take a deep breath. "Okay, so how'd Jackson end up adopting you?"

"Jason," she sighs. "Well, since I was completely on my own, I was just assigned a sponsor who worked for the city. I stayed at the inpatient center for a full year since I was actually really bad off, and didn't have any actual home, so they figured if they let me go, I'd inevitably relapse. After the year was up and the idea of me moving forward with an outpatient program, Jason offered to take me in, and we were already really close, so he just legally adopted me."

"Why'd you take his name?"

"I didn't want to be my parents' anymore. Jason's the closest thing to family I have."

I suck in a breath, trying to not let sting too much. It proved futile because my chest still ached.

I used to be her family. As far as I'm concerned, she's still my family. Even when she was gone, she was a Mitchh. We still had her pictures on the cork board in the treehouse. The sign that stayed in the very center, reading "The Mitchhes" written in crayon, was the same one she drew.

"You could've stayed in touch with us, you know," I finally say. It's something I've thought about since the first month after she left. I wouldn't have been such a chore to give us a call once or twice, let us know how she was doing in the new place. We never got a word from her. Only our individual notes left in our lockers that now stay pinned to the same corkboard.

She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just staring straight ahead, puffing breaths of smoke until the flame nearly reaches her finger and she pulls out another, using the embers to light it.

"When your parents are evading arrest by the federal government, they tend to steer away from keeping in touch with old friends. After they were gone, it was within a matter of months that I spent twelve hours a day cradling a bottle of whatever I could get my hands on. I was never lucid enough to find a payphone, even less, remember your numbers. Figured it was easier." She shrugs.

"It still would've been nice to maybe get a letter or something. I know they let you do stuff like that in rehab. It'd only been two years, was still recently enough to say 'hey'," I grumble, knowing I sound ridiculous and needy, but she was my best friend who disappeared for four years and came back a new person.

"Anything I say or do now won't change that, you know?" she says.

I roll my eyes, combing my hair back through my fingers. "That doesn't make it right that you just show back up out of nowhere and treat your best friends like shit!"

"You aren't my friends," she snaps.

I drop my jaw, feeling my eyes begin to burn and the urge to hit something growing exponentially with every second. I don't know what I should've expected, but for some reason, I never thought she could look me in the eyes and tell me that we no longer meant anything to her.

"I don't understand how you've changed enough to say that the people you used to call your family aren't even enough to be your friends, anymore."

"Yeah, well," she sighs, taking one last drag before stomping out her cigarette and picking up her backpack. "That's a problem you'll have to bear alone--I've already lost to those particular demons." She stands and walks towards the corner, barely turning around to give me a condescending wave before she's gone. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ I took for granted, all the times _ _   
_ _ That I thought would last somehow _ _   
_ _ I hear the laughter, I taste the tears _ _   
_ _ But I can't get near you now _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Oh, can't you see it baby _ _   
_ _ You've got me going crazy _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Wherever you go _ _   
_ _ Whatever you do _ _   
_ _ I will be right here waiting for you _ _   
_ _ Whatever it takes _ _   
_ _ Or how my heart breaks _ _   
_ __ I will be right here waiting for you

[[ Right Here Waiting ] Richard Marx](https://youtu.be/S_E2EHVxNAE)

\- - - - -    
  
“Where did you disappear to yesterday?” Hunter asks as I sit down between her and Michael against the lockers.   
  
“Followed Colten,” I sigh. 

I can feel all eyes on me immediately.   
  
“What?” Hunter is the first to ask.   
  
“I saw her walking past the window, so I watched where she went so I could talk to her. Couldn't not, ya know?”    


“And did you?” Michael presses.   
  
“Yep,” I breathe out heavily, cracking open my soda and taking a sip. It burns at the back of my throat where the dry skin meets the cool liquid.    
  
“What happened?” Hunter asks when I finish swallowing.   
  
“She’s fucking twisted, is what happened.”   
  
“What does that mean?"   
  
“It means she’s not Colten!” I shout. The lack of sleep and abundance of stress definitely has me wired and hanging on with loose ends, fraying and dwindling. “She fucking smokes! She hates smoking! And then she burns herself with them!”   
  
Calum gives me a weird look. “What do you mean, burns herself?”   
  
“I mean she takes the lit cigarette and presses it into her skin! She did it with a smile, too!” I slam my head back against the lockers, not regretting it even after sharp tingles radiate from the source. Break would be over soon, but I was so not in the mood to go to English class and spend an hour and a half blocking out Colten’s presence.   
  
“Fucking--“ Ashton cuts off with a frustrated grunt and groan, fisting his hair in his hands. I can empathize the feeling.   
  
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh.   
  
We all sit in electrified silence, brains working yet spinning to piece together how we lost our best friend. How she lost herself.   
  
At least when she was just gone, we could assume she was doing okay. We could believe she had moved on with her life and was happy. At least we didn’t have to bear the weight of the fact that she doesn’t exist anymore. That the girl we loved and grew up with vanished years ago.   
  
I ache for the ignorance.   
  
Down the hall, there is an abrupt crash and shriek, causing us all to snap back to reality and look for the source of the disturbance.   
  
From our positions, all we can see is a crowd starting to form and hear the yells coming from whoever is in the center.   
  
A familiar voice catches my attention. I stand slowly, abandoning my bag and drink to walk towards the commotion. I hear the rest of them follow me. We steadily approach the crowd. There are barely enough people to block my view, so I push my way through until I can see what’s happening.   
  
“I fucking swear--I will tear your skin off!” Colten screams, hurling herself at some girl who reaches to pull at her hair. Colt easily wretches her hand away and twists it behind her back, shoving her to the ground.   
  
My eyes go wide. I stand shell shocked until Colten moves to tackle the girl on the floor, I pull myself together and jump into the tangled mess.   
  
“Colten!” I try to get her attention. I grab her by her arm and try pulling her back, but she keeps swinging and it takes all my strength to get ahold of the other one and force her shoulders away.   
  
“Let me go!” she screams, kicking and thrashing in my grip.   
  
“Colt! Take a breath,” I calmly whisper into her ear. I hold her tight against my chest, trying to force her to relax her muscles.   
  
“Let go of me and let me shred the pretty girl’s blonde hair from her scalp,” she growls back to me, twisting her head around to look me fiercely in the eye.   
  
“I don’t know what happened, but I don’t think scalping the girl is a solution.”   
  
I ignore her protests and collect her in my arms, all but carrying her away from the scene while she continues to thrash around. Ashton comes up to help restrain her legs and carry her through the door to the nearest empty classroom, Michael locking the door behind us.   
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Colt screeches. Ash drops her feet to the ground and I make sure she is upright and steady before l let go. She flips around, her face flushed red and eyes livid.   
  
"Why were you flipping out on that girl?" Calum asks.   
  
He sounds as shocked as I feel. Looking around, I can tell everyone else is thinking the same thing.   
  
Colten was never exactly a hotheaded person who lashed out--especially not physically of to the extent of actually trying to rip a girl's limbs off.   
  
"She's a bitch!"   
  
"I couldn't even tell who she was," I laugh, although it's not exactly funny.   
  
"I don't need to know her name for her to be a bitch!"   
  
"What did she even do?" Michael asks.   
  
"What do you care?!" she shrieks. Her eyes are wild, her hair askew from the fight, and she looks a little bat-shit crazy in general.   
  
We stare wide-eyed, not really sure what to do with the huffing and puffing girl in front of us.   
  
" _ Colten James, to the office. Colten James, to the office, please _ ," comes through the loudspeakers.   
  
"Fucking--" Colt grumbles, rolling her eyes and storming into the hallway without another word.   
  
\- - - - -   
  
"I understand why you're upset, but that doesn't mean you can go and rip a girl to shreds," I hear despite the hushed tone of the man sitting next to Colten outside the office doors. I slow my walk as I approach the lone pair in the barren hallways. Colt's head shoots up as soon as she catches wind of my presence.   
  
"What are you doing?" she moans, falling dramatically back in her chair, exasperated.   
  
The man twists around to see what she's talking about. Immediately, I know the only way to interpret his face is kind. Not even his expression in this very moment, but something about his actual physical features makes him seem warm. His eyes are a very saturated hazel--green and gold and brown. Even while he's sitting down, hunched over towards Colt to give them a faux sense of privacy, I can tell he's at least six-foot. His brunette hair is stylishly swept to the side on top of his head.   
  
This must be Jason.   
  
"Hey, sorry. I just... wanted to check if you were all right," I say to Colten. I then turn to the man and reach my hand out. "Hi, I'm Luke."   
  
Recognition flashes across his face obviously, not even trying to pass an indifferent façade. He reaches to firmly shake my hand in his.   
  
"Nice to meet you, Luke. I'm Jason James." He grins kindly. "It's incredibly nice to finally put a face to a name."   
  
"Jason," Colt hisses with wide eyes from her seat. Jason just laughs her off.   
  
"You're one of the kids Colt used to best friends with, right?"   
  
"Yes, sir." I nod firmly, my muscles betraying me and turning my lips up at the end. At least I know she didn't forget about us, entirely. Enough to mention us to Jason. Enough for Jason to remember me by name.   
  
"I've heard a lot about you," he chuckles, standing up so that we can apparently have a proper conversation.   
  
"Um, yeah, I've heard a bit of you, too," I chuckle awkwardly.   
  
"Really?" he asks, surprised. He comically twists around to give Colten an exaggerated smirk and raise of the eyebrows. She rolls her eyes and huffs back in her seat. He turns to face me once again.   
  
"Yeah, you're Colten's adoptive father, right?"   
  
"Something like that," he laughs easily. "Although, I'd say I'm more her warden."   
  
I laugh with him, feeling light and comfortable talking to this perfect stranger.   
  
"Oh, bite me," Colt sneers. Jason calmly gives her a reprimanding look, and she begrudgingly shrinks back in her seat, diverting her eyes with her metaphorical tail between her legs. But as soon as Jason returns his attention to me, his expression is back to being bright and easygoing, but nothing fake. 

  
"Well, after I deal with this one," he nods to Colt, "why don't you come over for dinner tonight? Even bring the rest of the pack, if you'd like."   
  
"Jason," Colt scolds, sitting up hunched over in her seat. "It hasn't even been a week! You said--"   
  
"I know what I said," he interrupts as politely as one can when cutting someone off. "Then you went and tried to rip a girl's head off, and your friend was so nice as to come check on you, so now the plans have changed a bit."   
  
"But--" she pleads desperately.   
  
"Stop," he scolds, firmly but not harsh. "If Luke and your other friends are available to come have dinner, it's the least you could do to be a good hostess."   
  
She glares darkly at me, but once she gives Jason another glance, she is falling back with her arms crossed, knowing the argument is now over before it really began.   
  
"I'm free," I say, earning a scoff from Colten and a beaming smile from Jason. "I'll have to check with the others, but I don't think any of them have plans tonight."   
  
"Perfect!" he says, clapping his hands in front of him. "Does five work?"   
  
"Yeah, five works," I say with a smile. I already like this guy. "Where do you guys live?"   
  
"Oh, yes," he starts, patting his pockets for something to write the location for me, I'm assuming.   
  
"You can just have Colten text it to me," I say easily, not wanting to be a bother, not stopping to think through the implications or the fact that I don't even have her number.   
  
"Colten doesn't have a phone." He laughs at the perplexed look that floods my features. "We have a house phone, and she is perfectly fine using that, for the time being. Isn't that right, Colt?"   
  
She rolls her eyes, shoulders sinking. "Trust and privileges must be earned," she drawls monotonously by rote.    
  
"That's right," Jason says with a smile. When he finally collects a sticky note and pen from Colt's backpack, he scribbles down the address and hands it over.   
  
"Thank you, Mr. James," I say politely.   
  
"Jason is fine." He holds out his hand for me to shake, and I appreciatively accept it.   
  
"Yes, sir," I chuckle just as a woman pops her head out from the office door, calling for Colten and Jason to please come in and take a seat.   
  
We casually say our goodbyes, Colten's forced and sarcastic but Jason's genuine.   
  
I walk away with a bright smile and an auspicious sticky note.


	5. [ 4 ]

_There's someone I've been missing_   
_I think that they could be_   
_The better half of me_   
_They're in the in the wrong place trying to make it right_   
_But I'm tired of justifying_   
_So I say to you…_   
_Come home_   
_Come home_

[[ Come Home ] OneRepublic](https://youtu.be/qxW0cPo7F_o)

\- - - - -

“Are you sure about this?” Hunter asks nervously. “She hasn’t exactly seemed very keen on spending quality bonding time with us.”

I shrug as we walk up the stairs of the apartment complex.

“Jason invited us, and he seemed to think it was a good idea. He knows her better than we do.”

The admission sits heavily on all of our heads, already knowing it to be true, but feeling weighted down hearing it spoken out loud. Hearing it become real.

“Which one is theirs?” Michael asks, changing the subject.

“Number 27,” I say as we reach the second level, following Jason’s instructions and turning left down the partially open hall.

It’s a nice building; wood panels painted tan horizontally line the walls, iron fencing waist high borders the wall-less side of the walkway, overlooking a small courtyard with a few benches around a quaint pond, healthy, green plants line the edges of the bottom floor. As we were coming in, a gate leading to a pool area could be spotted through an opening to the back of the complex.

We find the door we were looking for. Taking a breath, I raise my fist to knock solidly.

“Colten, would you get that?!” we can hear from the other side.

“You’re the one who invited them! You get it!” Colt’s voice rings back. I smirk to myself.

“I’m in the middle of making dinner, so get off your lazy butt, put down the book, and answer the door!” Jason says, voice more firm, adding on a cheeky “Please?”

She groans, but then footsteps can be heard growing closer, and suddenly the door is swinging open, revealing a grumpy Colten clad with cotton pajama shorts, a tank top that reveals half her stomach, and an oversized zip-up hanging open at her sides, hair gathered in a haphazard ponytail, emphasizing the fact that she has a patch buzzed on the left side of her head. It should look bad, or even odd, but it doesn't.

“Hi,” I breathe. She looks at us all looking bashful standing on her porch.

“Come in,” she sighs and turns around, not waiting to see if we are following.

We follow Colten down the narrow hallway. The wallpaper is a pastel blue, narrow white stripes going up and down. It opens up to the kitchen on the right and living area on the left, separated by a bar-styled counter, then continues down where I presume the bedrooms and bathrooms and stuff are.

Jason is standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot. He turns around when he hears us walk up. He has a white apron on, bold, black text reading ‘Mr. Mom’ across the chest, a cloth tossed over his shoulder.

“Welcome to our home!” he says excitedly, extending his arms out openly. I smile and hear someone stifle a gleeful laugh behind me.

“Nice to see you again, Jason,” I say, giving him a shy wave.

“Lovely to see you all,” he says dramatically. He looks over to Colt with expectant eyes. “Colten, would you mind going to change into something presentable for our guests like I asked you to an hour ago?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, but turns to walk down the hallway, opening and walking through the first door on the left. From the brief crack I can just make out dark blue walls, and a few framed photos hanging in a line on strings. I see a single picture off to the side, separate from the rest and stuck on with a piece of tape. It’s a girl I don’t recognize, laughing into the camera, and something about her smile makes me ache to meet the person Colten finds special enough to make a special place in her world for. Then the door is closed and the opening to her sanctuary is cut off.

“I apologize for her,” Jason comments, sharing his attention between us and the food. “She’s adjusting to the move, among other things.She’ll get better in time, once we get settled. It’s still a struggle for her to be back here.”

He turns down the dial on the stove, wipes his hands on the towel, and turns to face us, all still huddled in the entryway.

"Come have a seat," he urges, gesturing to the table against the far wall, a small dining area beside the kitchen.

"Can I get anyone anything to drink?" Jason asks once we are all seated. "We have water, milk, tea, orange juice...?"

"I'll have an orange juice," Hunter says with a small smile.

"Of course," he chuckles. "Hunter, right?" he asks her curiously.

She looks pleasantly surprised at the fact that he obviously knows something or other about her.

"Oh, yeah," she chuckles shyly. "Hunter... um--Mitchh. Hunter Mitchh, sir."

His eyes light up, coupled with an euphoric smile.

"Mitchh. That's right," he laughs breathily.

Suddenly, the growingly serious atmosphere is interrupted when Colten walks back through the corridor, now dressed in a loose black tee shirt that falls in the middle of her thighs, the same oversized zip-up, black sheer tights underneath, and black fuzzy socks over her feet.

"Nice of you to join us," Jason says, taking in her outfit. "I'll never understand how you're comfortable sleeping in those," he chuckles.

Colt looks down, plucking at the fabric covering her legs, shrugging.

"They're perfectly cozy. Plus, this is more 'presentable' than my other pjs."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbles. "Take a seat. What would everyone else like to drink?"

We take turns giving him our answers, just asking for a glass of water, myself. After he passes around the drinks, he takes his own seat next to Colt at the end of the table.

"So, where were we?" he says pleasantly. "I was about to say something about Mitchh, right?"

Colt groans, eyes slightly alight with an unnerving amusement.

"Oh, god. Don't even bring that up. That was such a ridiculous thing only children could come up with," she laughs.

Without even taking a look around, I know we are all sporting variations of off-put expressions. Is she being serious?

I mean, okay, yeah, it's a little childish and cheesy, but it was so important to us. We wanted to be a family so much we made our own. We wanted to be a part of each other, who we were and who we are now.

"Colten," Jason scolds her.

She scoffs a laugh. "Come on, it's a thing of the past that we can laugh about now."

"Hi," Calum interjects, stretching his hand in front of Jason, waiting for him to shake. "I'm Calum Mitchh. Lovely to meet you." He sits back with a patronizing smirk at Colten. She glares across the table. Jason lets the tense silence sit for a moment.

"So, I now know Luke, Calum, and Hunter. I'm guessing you are Ashton, and you're Michael," he says, gesturing respectively.

They give small waves from the opposite end of the table.

“Okay, I’ve got this,” he says, rubbing his hands together excitedly. He stops with an exhale.

“Calum,” he starts, “you’re the one that wanted to go camping, but couldn’t and decided to make a fire in your living room, right?”

“Oh, my god!” Michael screams, laughing so hard it’s more of a cackle. Tears quickly begin to form in Hunter’s eyes. Ashton’s doing his squeaky laugh. Calum is pouting and trying to hide a grin. My own face hurts from smiling.

Colten has her arms folded across her chest, looking like steam is about to start spewing from her ears.

“I totally forgot about that!” Hunter cries.

“Yeah, everyone totally forgot about that!” Calum pouts accusingly at Jason, but still can’t reign in the twerk of his lips.

Jason hardly gives us any time to collect ourselves before going right back in,

“When you all played wedding, Hunter, you insisted you were the bride, Colt was your maid of honor, Calum was the groom, Ashton and Luke were the best men, and Michael was the one that shined the shoes when you stepped in dog poop.”

“What did I ever do to you?!” Michael shrieks at Hunter.

“I’m sure you did something!” she laughs.

“Yeah, whatever,” Michael grumbles with a smirk. “Do Ashton next.”

“Ashton--“ He pauses to chuckle when Ash looks scared. “When you were four, on Friday 13th, you accidentally stepped on a crack and ran home crying you were so afraid you broke your mother’s back.”

I throw my head back as a laugh ripples through my chest, clapping my hands like a fucking walrus in front of me.

“This is the best day of my life!” Calum yells through tears, his face beat red and forehead sheen with sweat.

“Last but not least,” Jason chuckles, looking to me. “Luke, you were my daughter’s first kiss.”

Well.

There’s that.

I chuckle nervously, trying not to look at my friends’ panicked expressions.

“Oh, yeah,” I quietly laugh. “Everyone forgot about that.”

I see Hunter roll her eyes and place her head in her hands.

“I don’t think we forgot about that,” Cal unhelpfully adds. Hunter smacks him, not looking up.

No, no one forgot about that.

Not even Colten forgot that.

She didn’t forget it so much, that she made a point to tell Jason about the guy who was her first kiss.

“Yeah, well…” I chuckle with a shrug, not really sure where to go from here.

“I’m sorry,” Jason laughs lightheartedly. “I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable or put you on the spot. I only wanted to know the boy I’ve heard so much about.”

“Jason, I swear to god,” Colt seethes in her seat. My ears perk up.

“When I was first with her and she was going through therapy a few years ago, talking about your past and what brought you happiness at any point in your life is important. All of you came up, Luke just made an impression.” He smirks near playfully. “She wasn’t legally my daughter, at that point, but I was still enough to her that I wanted to know about any boys in her life. Anyone who could or has hurt my little girl.”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Colt storms off down the hall before anyone can acknowledge her.

I clear my throat, returning my attention to the man across from me.

“What was the verdict on that one?”

His eyes soften. “You haven’t hurt her. But right now, I think anything can and will. Be careful with her, yeah?”

I nod shakily, breathing heavily out of my mouth like fucking Darth Vader.

“Of course.” I cough.

He sighs, sitting back to address us all. “There’s a lot of her story you don’t know, and I have no place in telling you. She may open up to you, eventually. However, for the time being, you have to just know that that girl has gone to hell and back and lost everything ten times over since you last knew her.”

Colten gets back, and the rest of dinner goes by without incident. In fact, it turns to be very pleasant. We banter back and forth with Jason, laugh when milk comes out Michael's nose at something said. We convince Cal and Hunter to do the spaghetti-kiss thing where you meet in the middle, and Jason gets a picture of them with lips locked and red sauce all over their faces, suppressing laughter of their own.

When everyone is finished, we all work to clear the table, helping washing and drying dishes.

Colten doesn't say much, but I see her hold back a smirk a time or two.

It's only seven when the kitchen is clean and everyone is occupying various countertops, Ash and Cal taking the only seats at the bar.

"I've got some work to do," Jason says, hopping down. "However, there's some ice cream and fudge bars in the freezer, and Colten is all finished with her homework. If you'd like, you can all hang out in the living room and maybe put on a movie, or something."

I have to admit that I'm having enough fun that I don't want the night to come to an end. But one look at Colt's face, and I know it's not a mutual opinion. Without Jason as a buffer for uncomfortable situations, I'm not sure how well the next few hours could go.

In the end, though, it's Colten, and I'm sure this is just one of the many awkward situations to come before we can get her back in our family.

"Sounds good," I tell him, ignoring Colten's annoyed looks.

She rolls her eyes and storms past us towards the living area. Looking around, we all silently agree to stay and follow her to the next room. She's sat huffing tucked against the far couch corner. Ignoring the the abundance of space available on the sectional couch, I plop myself unceremoniously right beside Colten. I turn my attention to her put-off expression, hearing the rest sit down in more respectful manners, carefully tiptoeing around the metaphorical glass shards littering the floor.

“What are we watching?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” she says warily. “You can look at the DVDs over there.” She points to a media case holding stacks of CDs and DVDs, even a few VHS tapes. Well, I suppose without a phone, she's a little stuck in the slightly outdated technology.

“All right,” I say, dramatically huffing as I get to my feet and make my way to the other side of the modestly-sized room. The movies hold an amusing variation of genres and topics.

Invictus

Bridget Jones's Diary

V for Vendetta

Notting Hill

How to Train Your Dragon

The Hangover

One catches my eye and I look over my shoulder, holding up the case for her to see.

“We Bought a Zoo work for everybody?”

“Yeah!” Michael shouts from his seat, jumping excitedly in his seat.

I smile but check for Colten’s agreement. She rolls her eyes when they meet mine but nods. I stick the disk in the DVD player on the shelf beneath the television, waiting for the title screen to pop up to press play. I settle back into my position next to Colt, choosing to ignore the way she sort-of-subtly inches closer to the arm of the couch.

“MacCready is my spirit animal,” Hunter comments an hour or so later as MacCready breaks down the bathroom door, threatening murder.

By the time Matt Damon is emotionally making nice with his son in front of the dying tiger, Cal is asleep on Hunter’s shoulder and Colten is curled around a pillow she went and got from her room about a half hour ago. As Matt is flipping through a slideshow of his life, I chance a look over at Colt. She’s got her knees tucked close to her chest, chin resting on the pillow. I smirk when I see a wetness hinting around her reddening eyes. Breaking news: her soul isn’t dead. Maybe there's some hope yet.

It's only 10pm when the ending credits roll down the screen, but everyone is teetering on varying states of asleep. I start to jostle Mikey’s head where it's resting across my lap, legs spread across Ashton, and socked feet landing on Hunt, much to her displeasure.

“Wake up, mate,” I laugh and try shaking him into consciousness again.

“No,” he grumbles and turns to nuzzle his nose against my stomach, tickling my belly button and making me giggle.

“I still have to drive your tired ass home. Get up.”

After a deep breath, Michael groans as he slowly sits up, subsequently jostling his lower half and making a close call as his knee barely manages to avoid Ashton’s balls. By the time he looks to have rejoined the living, Hunter has risen Calum from the dead as well, and is softly coaxing him to stand.

Colten is asleep when I turn my head. Her eyes are closed softly, and she looks oddly cozy curled up in her little ball. As everyone gathers their shoes, I find a blanket in a basket beside the couch and gently cover her, tucking it to make sure her shoulders are covered.

When I turn away, five sets of eyes are looking curiously at me, but Jason is the one I notice specifically with a smile on his face, standing in the hall entryway. I smile back awkwardly with a shrug.


End file.
